


Torches and Hooks

by SpecterCrow



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Multiwatch, Nsfw?, Other, Overwatch - Freeform, RP Server, This is just my own thing, roadrat - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24229159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpecterCrow/pseuds/SpecterCrow
Summary: This is mainly for my Overwatch Rp server, a viewpoint of where Torch's Hog is and what happened to separate them. These are my own headcanons, my own designs for these guys and they pretty much are their own AU.I don't really know how to write anymore, other than rp, so I'm mainly doing this to spitball the timeline a bit.A note I'll be using Bold for Roadhog's words and normal typing for Junkrat!
Relationships: Junkrat | Jamison Fawkes/Roadhog | Mako Rutledge
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Burnt up

**_Six in the morning._ **   
**_Inmate count._ **

The doors flip open, the clambering of feet and the stink of disinfectant hangs heavy in the ward. Orange attire fills in like cattle to the slaughter as they are herded to their respected lines. The bright lights of the lightbulbs buzzing above, the far too narrow stairs that one has to wedge through if there's more than a few people? It was all the morning routine. Every day, for nearly a month now, the routine would continue. The inmate count, meals, rec, meals, and then sleep. Repeat. Again and again, over and over. Time? It didn't exist unless they let you know the time if they bothered to voice it. Most of them barked about it being 'mealtime', not, 7 am, or something close to it. Today is no different. Once more the doors are opened and once more they are herded into rows like good, little _piggies_ for the correctional officers. 

A grunt is followed by as a large, heavyset man towers behind the other gathered inmates, fists idly clenching as the noises echo and idle murmurs can be heard from the gathered inmates. There was a breathing mask fixated against rugged, scruffy features, hefty breaths exhaling in and out like a lifeline and there was barely any oxygen provided. Dull, amber eyes stubbornly look down on the men now barking out a roll call and what's 'to be expected' from them all and he all but huffs. An arrogant, mid-twenties officer with a chip on his soldier, he's been this way for years apparently. Mako found himself quickly disliking the man he's been placed under but it'd work out, he'll bite the bullet until he finds a good reason to snap that pretty neck of his like a toothpick.

The officer goes on for a good thirty minutes, his words rattling off like a cheese grater and spitting out each word like a shred of pungent cheese, spilling out the day by day routines and rules. By the time the officer finishes, the hog-like man is all too ready to do something else than listen to any more words from this drongo minded, prettified suit with a badge and a chip. 

That something else is the Morning cleanup. Frustrating as it is? He can tolerate this more than he can tolerate the cop spouting off from his mouth. It goes quickly enough, he sees how the other inmates have clinked up, chattering idly as they sweep, wipe, and clean up the rec area that is 'gifted' to them. The cleaning is their cells too, which is another thing he hates doing but it's better than most things. By the time Laundry detail hits, he's got an appetite that would put a boar to shame. Breakfast is served in the cell once they are herded back behind those gated rooms, which regretfully, is not the area Mako resided. His entire stay, thus far, was solitary. With one hour of Rec, if he even gets it, it was guarded with at least two personnel around his vicinity.

His wrists, despite how bulky they were, were cuffed just as his ankles were, making it that much harder to do much of anything outside of sitting in his cell and cleaning when ordered to. Breakfast was shit, the way the slider is banged on before he has to present his hands to the cop to even uncuff him, just to get the damn food? He was lucky he couldn't strangle him right then and there. Something was different though, as he is slid the tray and the slider shuts close, the first thing that hits is the burnt smell. Stale bread, burnt to a crisp, some kind of cereal mash, and a carton of milk. The burnt smell, while tolerable isn't exactly going well with the already present odors though.

The mixture of odors from the prison cell over the fact his sink and toilet were literally two feet away? It made eating hardly appetizing. The mingling smells of stank and the burning crisp thing on his tray is what he focuses on. Staring down at the food like a dazed and dreaming man, he recalls a similar smell of dirt and grime, with the habit of smelling _burnt_ as well. The memories fuzz over everything as he breaths out, mask fixated to his knee as he takes his first bite with a small grunt.

It went to shit far too easily. 

* * *

**"You're always reckless,"** came his gruff voice as a shrill, higher octave gives a groan back in return. "It won't be bad mate, look here look here. Look, see what I figure, is we can check out the security, see how the suits run the place, and when we see our chance? KABLOOEY!" The tippy taps of his foot and peg leg scatter his thoughts as he watches the beanpole of a man dance about eagerly. It was a faulty plan, like many of his others throughout the years but Mako? He just went with it. He was the hired bodyguard, toting around and spreading anarchy wherever they went. This was no different. With enough bombs and enough adjusting to the plan? They could get a good score. Shaking his head, the scrawny, rat-like man squints up at him with those beady little eyes and after a moment of his gears turning? He nods and waves his hands as he talks. Jamie was just like this, no matter what heist it was.

"Yer roight yer roight, okay. So we're gonna scope the place out, figure out the suits, rig it up ta blow, SECURE the money area, theeeeeen KABLOOEY!!" Another drastic hand wave and Mako merely grunts in disapproval. An escape plan, they always had to run this through and figure that out. Always. Another squint, a sniff, and wipe at his pointy nose and the rat snaps his metal fingers together and speaks again. Did he ever shut up? No, he even grunted in his sleep. Oh well. 

"Okay, the plan is: Scope it out, suits, rig it, SECURE IT, THEEEEEEEN... Get the hell out of Dodge and THEEEEEN ..Kablooey?" There it is. After a bit of silence, Mako gives a nod and another little dance taps away before he feels the man crawl on him like a starved rat. Looking down at him, there's another moment of pause before he pats the man's head and shoves him off for they can get ready, resituating himself on the bike as a large hand pats the sidecar. Scampering up, Junkrat is all too eager to hop in that little sidecar and kick his legs up so to speak as the heavy roar of the engine kicks off. It was an older model before they invented these stupid cars and trucks without wheels, they didn't work the way a good bike did.

Even as the guy talks over the engine, he still focuses on the plan and works on a way to make it _better_. Jamie knew explosives, he didn't know how to give enough time for said explosives to go off without them being in the area. Maybe he was too eager to see the shrapnel going sky high. The smell of explosive debris with the fire seemed to get this bugger off like nothing else and it made sense given his reputation to be a pyro. 

Always a guy to be too close to the danger.

Being in this high-tech city was an eyesore, those fucking bots were _everywhere. EVERY. GOD DAMN CORNER._ The frustrating rings clear as he parks the bike to a random curve was about as best as he can do. The fact they had to take a damn boat to get to Oasis? It already stunk of a bad idea but if he had to? He'd find a way to get them both out of there. And his bike. They both stuck out like sore thumbs, already getting those annoying glances and people muttering about how weird some of the tourists were. They weren't even in their 'official' attire, Mako sporting a no sleeve jacket with his hook tucked in the side of it and some beat-up jeans. Junkrat? He was less blending and was wearing a pair of pink shorts, yellow tank, and a flip flop. If either of them wanted to blend in, they'd have to try harder but who honestly cared? 

Fuck them, they can rack off, he didn't really care. Junkrat had other plans anyway as he started to grow eager and excited to map the place out. That excitement pittered out soon enough though, a comment of it being too 'posh' for him. Did he even know what that meant? A grunt and he follows as always, admiring the beauty to himself. Despite the bots, it was pretty. It would be a shame if he had to kill someone here. That very thought gets a small rumbling noise akin to a chuckle as they make a pit stop to go over what areas they were able to see. It was a fancy, cafe of sorts. A bunch of white suits and as Jamie puts it, city wankers stuffing up their noses with coffee and scones. 

Testing the seating, he hears it bend and groan at his weight but after a bit of adjustment? The larger man was able to sit down a bit. Water, with a hint of lemon was fine for him, didn't need to rob this place and ruin the plan, didn't need to break their own banks either. Noticing how hungry his partner was though? It makes him make up a different idea for this. Something easy, something quick to eat and filling. Looking over the dual lingual menu, he has to take a moment to focus on the words before finally pointing at some of the sandwiches to grab Jamie's attention. Peeking at the menus, he looks like he might just eat the paper if he could which gets a small chuckle from the stoic man himself. 

They decide to order eventually, getting the rat a Unicorn Frappe, himself an iced tea, and two different kinds of sandwiches. Prices weren't too bad, the most pricey thing was around 15 bucks. It could have been much worse. A turkey and cheese ciabatta and a warm chicken wrap, with a side salad of House special with walnuts. Once they got the food, it was down and done, quickly having bites taken out before Jamie decides to talk like always. "Oi this is great! Ya gotta try this Hoggie, jus open yer mouth and get a taste of this here wrap!" The chicken wrap was waved in his face like a chew toy to an annoyed dog, it didn't go well but he eventually relented and took a bite. It was okay, not the best like what he ordered, but they each had their own tastes.

 **"It's good."** Was about as much as he was going to say on that as he goes to drink his tea. When he sips, the other gulps down like a greedy goblin. It's ridiculous how much this beanpole can pack away but it is what it is. Leaving only a smidgin of crumbs on the respected plates and the crumbled amount of money slapped on for good measure, they head out once they were satisfied. This wasn't a vacation, best not to treat it that way, food or not.

The conversations continue, silence and small grunts offered to the rambling of his partner about their plans and how it's going to be even better than King's Row. He missed that Crown still, not that they'd be able to get it now. Maybe he'll find something nice here he can keep. 

They spent the next few days scoping the place out, marked under false names in a random hotel. It wasn't bad, warm like they liked it and the bed could handle them both well enough. The bathroom was too small though, barely could fit in that shit stain of a potty let alone the shower if he actually wanted to clean himself off. He'll be glad to leave this place once the heist was over. They planned to strike at night when the shifts changed and the security was sparser. This was the _plan_. An overexcited pyro, however, wanted to go earlier. Around twenty minutes earlier. 

Cue the near comical aftermath of scrambling to get things done.

"All I'm saying is this is betta! We don't have ta wait around, don't have ta beat around the bush, and jus' grab what we want when we blow the security bots sky high!" Stupid. Reckless. Annoying. It's too damn late to fix it up now, that's for sure. He shakes his head and damn near wants to strangle him for doing this too early but he's long since learned that either he's got a fried wire or he's ADHD. Got the attention span of what Americans call a squirrel. Squirrel brain. 

Trudging after him as he scurries up the side, his hook swings once, twice, three times before he sends it sailing up to the top of this bank. Having his filtration mask on was something he was glad to have, especially when he was already straining to climb up with him. The bombs were rigged up well enough, not too many of them by the look of it so he had to give him credit. At least this place wouldn't blow completely sky high with them inside. Even if it messed up, there'd be an exit explosion hole they can dart out of. The bike was parked discreetly and it was all working for the time being. On the roof, his breathing his harsh, unseen eyes boring a hole in the back of his partner's head.   
  
**"...."** He only has to grunt and rumble something akin to a voiced opinion and this bastard knew exactly what he was saying. The only benefit to that was that he could catch his breath and still be understood. Rolling his eyes, the scrawny rat just paces as he winds up the timers. "I know I know, twenty minutes too early. It ain't that bad though, we got the bombs set up for the escape, we're on the tippy top roof, and we're golden! Look, there's only a few guards and ya can hook them easily. There's some cleanin bots but those ain't nothing but target practise. C'mon!"

What did he like to say when he was about to blow something up? Fire in the hole?

He nearly expected it.

Nearly speaking out on it, he soon enough sees him dive on it,frag launcher in hand and... Ah. There it is. "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" Blasting the bots and knocking them out of the way, he hobbles to the vault as Mako gets to work on ground control. With his hook in hand and his scrap gun, he makes short work of the room and everyone in it. Too bad he had to spread some blood in a pretty place like this. What they both didn't expect, was that due to this place being the most advanced with technology as well as scientific breakthroughs? That there were going to be sensors and lasers to protect the interior of this vault. The bombs, they didn't get a chance to go off with their timers.

As he launches a few to the sensors, one manages to ricochet and hit smack dab in the lasers. The resulting, ear-piercing explosion hit _hard_ and all he could think of doing was snatching him with his hook and yanking him against his chest as not one. NOT TWO, but ALL of the bombs meant to fry up the sensors go off at once. The backlash of fire toasts his side and he quickly has to take off some of his gear as his large arm is burned enough to the point the metal damn near turned _red_. Smoke and fire fills the area and it all goes to hell. The explosion blew out two supporting walls, which were caving in like a domino effect on this fancily designed bank. Kudos to the design, bad for when you're stuck in it as it starts to crumble. They hadn't even gotten to the money and the searing, agonizing pain in his side licked into his arm and he struggled to catch his breath. Tossing the man off of his chest, he finally growls out and points as the faint sounds of sirens can be heard.

**"It's going to keep breaking. We need to get out."**

It's such a simple plan, but the rush of events was anything but as the dumbass thinks that means it's time to use the exit hole plan! More explosions were the least effective for this situation right now, the structure cracking completely now and now the sirens were blaring outside and surrounding the area. Faster cars, no escape route, and the pillars and whatever else held this place together were crumbling in on themselves. In a last-ditch effort, he throws his hook once more as the fires continue, the radio voices of 'surrender' and 'you have no way out' only blending in with every other noise as he grows hyper-focused on what he needs to do.

Jamie gives a 'hurrkk' like noise as he's hooked once more, only to be grabbed and going for a possible window. He can handle gunfire, even while bleeding and burned but he's a lot slower now. Breathing is hard and coming out like sandpaper in his throat as he charges. Whatever happened next, it was too blurry to focus on. 

Something heavy ended up hitting into him, _very heavy._ It knocked him back good and he merely throws the guy out of his arms, trying to get him out of the way of injury but it doesn't go that well. The reason this place had such a low crime record was because of the security and it's showing its ugly head now. His head was dizzy, buzzing like a hornet's nest as he tries to get back up. The first ceiling collapses down as one of the security drones drops in, the debris of heavy concrete, the guns pointed in his face...

Going out with a bang almost sounded great but he had no idea where he ended up tossing his body to guard and it was getting too hard to breathe. Chest heaving now, he submits for the time being as he tries to get a look through the wreckage.

Even as he is eventually subdued, which aggravates the active burn and roughed up injuries from the concrete floor, he's taken in with a medic on call. It didn't matter though. Each passing second of consciousness, he looks for that stubborn, annoying man but there was nothing. As he's hauled into the transport and the cops check over the scene in the background as he's drove away from it; He only has one question in his mind.

Did he make it out?


	2. Anteater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the final bit, setting up the story for I can have a nice and easy timeline for these two. I'm glad to those who gave me some kudos on it and read it. So thank you! ^u^

In and out...

His consciousness was shit in comparison to his hearing right now, having slouched in the police van with an exhausted breath. Each breath felt like sandpaper, burning in his lungs and dragging out roughly between each inhale and exhale. His chest was tight, eyes barely open as he attempts to rally himself up. It was futile though, between the fire-like pain scorching in his side and his arm to the tightness of his chest? The transport to the medical ward of the prison was all but a blur. He couldn't stumble out of the van and there was something like a gurney provided as his body slumps into the thing like a dead weighted corpse. The lights were too bright up above, passing through the corridors like blinkers constantly shining in his face.

Darkness...

His eyes had fallen shut at one point or another, given way to the lack of proper air, the proper tanks he would normally use to soothe himself, and the injuries were all but a fucked up cocktail of bad scenarios for him. Tiredly, he does manage to wake back up during the middle of the procedure, startling the doctor's trying to pick away at the concrete stuck in his skin and trying to treat his burn wounds. A large hand swept through, knocking one of them back into a monitor but it was short-lived. The moment Mako became rowdy and aggressive, was the moment a needle was stuck into his skin and the world began to spin once more. 

Whatever time it was, he didn't care. It must have been several hours, hell, maybe even a day before he properly woke up again but he was no longer in a simple hospital, emergency bed. It was similar to a cell, but his wounds were treated and he had an I.V and oxygen mask fixated to his face. Groggily he goes to sit up, trying to focus on what was around him in this bright room but something held him down. Noting the restraints, he grows agitated once more and attempts to snap them himself, which only aggravates the bandaged arm more. After a good few minutes of working on the restraints, he flops back with a huff and merely stares up at the ceiling, contemplating his next move. 

By the time a nurse comes in, he's quiet and for the most part collected. She was in her thirties, maybe early thirties, or even late twenties but he could _smell_ the god awful perfume on her. Like an overdose of cotton candy and vanilla. Her nearly black hair was loosely tied in a bun and her green eyes were partially clouded due to her glasses fogging up thanks to the face mask she wore. He doesn't fight the restraints, not right now, it would only signal the guards to come and secure him and another one of those annoying shots to his neck or arm. 

"It's good to see you awake Mr. Rutledge... I'm just here to change your dressing and assess your monitors. How are you feeling, any pain?" Her sing sung voice all but annoyed him as he merely turns his head to watch her with a more even stare, older eyes filled with a cold drain of emotions to her frantic, deer-like expression. After a moment, he sucks in a breath and grunts out a reply. **"Doesn't matter."** In part, he was mainly telling himself that it didn't matter, that the pain in his body was nothing but another injury he had to heal over. But another was the fact he didn't want her sugar coating some false sense of kindness and duty to him as a 'patient'. This was a prison, wasn't it? 

"It does matter, your monitors are showing a higher blood pressure which shows you're in pain. I'm going to give you something in your I.V to soothe it as I tend to your wounds. Please don't struggle." She was soft despite the clear disdain he was giving her, which seemed to only egg her on more. The removal of the dressing was a gaping mess of tattered skin and burnt pieces of meat with the beginning of puss forming in spots. Cleaning it was a pain, in a lot of ways. His teeth ground together as she wiped at the injuries, watching his every twitch and near flinching each time. Funny. With these restraints, you'd think she'd feel safe. Either that, or she was smart and could tell he could break them if his arm wasn't so messed up. 

It takes a good thirty minutes.

Those thirty minutes were hellish, if he could comment or bothered to voice his hatred for it. The wounds were cleaned, freshly bandaged and his body was beginning to numb with the aide of whatever medical cocktail she stuck in his I.V. 

This went on for a good week.

An entire week of dealing with that overly sweet smell of perfume and mocked up kindness. Little did she know though, that he had heard her little mumbles from time to time. Something along the lines of 'I don't know why we have to worry about his wounds, he's a murderer and a horrible man. He should just be stuck in solitary to rot.' The little girl really didn't realize just who she was bad-mouthing. By the week's end, the restraints didn't feel like hot pokers on his arm and when she finishes up with her fake smile and little giggle, he finally shows her the reason one shouldn't talk shit when the person can hear them. The restraints snap as he finally breaks them, having worked here and there on wearing the stupid things out bit by bit. 

The strangled cry from her prompts the guards but he hardly cared as he grabbed her up like a weightless doll and threw her against the wall bluntly. The was an audible crack, maybe it was her back? He didn't care. Removing the I.V out of his arm with a small adjustment, Mako gets to work as one of the guards rushes in only to be met with a meaty hand grabbing onto his face and squeezing down. The crack of his skull and the gut-wrenching scream all but fuels him on as he proceeds to use the man as a flailing weapon. "GAAAHHH!!" He screams more and more until there was a distinct gurgle of blood and saliva and a _crack_ as he swings the man into another guard and he grows limp like a wet chew toy. Dropping him, he prepares to take on more of them even as he feels the stinging pain of what he assumes to be a _taser_ into his noninjured side. With a roar, he rips the prongs out and sends several more guards into a battered state. 

A gun.

He hears it before he feels it, looking down at his leg as he ends up losing his balance, blood seeping down and soaking his hairy leg to the ground. Despite some of the officers being incapacitated, several of them leap onto Mako to hold him down, restraining him as best as they can as another jabs something into his skin and the world begins to spin once more. 

That is when they decided that he was healed enough for prison life but not with the other inmates. He was restricted to solitary and the routine of day after day began. The first time he got Rec was around day four of his solitary, an hour worth of walking around in a cage-like 'playground' with some grass and two officers watching him closely. His hands and ankles were cuffed and he had maybe five feet of walking distance in this cage. The outside was nice though, felt good on his skin and his chest didn't feel as tight. There wasn't a need for another outburst, especially given he was still recovering from not only his initial injuries but the gun wound in his leg. That was another lovely surgery they had to fix, which involved stopping the bleeding and removing the bullet while he was unconscious. 

There were only a few days, maybe three out of the week that he was allowed to have his proper Rec and not just told they didn't have enough officers to deal with him. 

This is just how it is.

He barely remembers the court hearing, the sentencing of a lifetime in prison but as it stands? He didn't really care as he was coaxed back into his cell like a towering boar being herded back to its territory. 

* * *

A tap to his cell starts to bring him back to focus.

They wanted his tray back by now and as he shakes his head to steady his thoughts, Mako gives way to a grumbling growl as he shoves the half-eaten tray into the slot for the guards to take back. "What, not hungry fatty?" Despite the insult, there was a waver in the man's voice, as if he was afraid of what this behemoth could do to him, but it is quickly cleared away with a cough before heading away. The man didn't care much for the insult, he was used to those kinds of pokes and his focus was elsewhere as he sits back down on his cot and stares ahead with a thousand-yard stare. He's been here for little over a month now, no sign of Junkrat to be seen and no one had made idle comments about it either.

So either he got away and left him to rot, or he died. It was just a job, to be a bodyguard to start with but as the years ticked on by? It grew to something more. Part of him hoped the beanpole was dead, it would sting less than knowing the guy got away and hadn't even attempted to get him out of the prison. Then again, he'd probably be gunned down if he tried it. There were scouts on each pillar of the prison, drones ready to fire any hostile individual down like the filthy animal they were. 

He thinks back on this, the whole thing of their relationship and it turns from petty thought to a somber one. If Jamie was dead, there was really no point in their heists anymore. No point in a lot of things they've done. In the beginning, he made the idle thought that the world deserved them. His loud mouth attitude and his own dangerous one made a balanced pair. Course he was a liar but who wasn't these days?

The years spent with him, the moments they shared despite the trouble? Had been amusing to him. While he may grouch about wanting him to shut up, in truth? Deep down, he liked it. Those nights were it was cold in OZ and they needed to share warmth, it made his heart start back up again. Like a ticking, like a cage of butterflies but he never did voice or act on it. The eager rat was all too happy to get attention when he was offered it, which only egged those sensations on. He was getting up there in age though, figured Jamie would eventually find someone else, but it never happened. Years went by and they merely stayed by each other through thick and thin, coaxing one another with comedic routines and overall chaotic fun. Sure, he got on his nerves and when he did? He'd string him up by his neck in his hand, but the other times? When they both were calmer and able to kick back? Well, they were fond memories, if anything. This world didn't have that much for him anymore, so he had a rat by his side. 

Not anymore though.

Part of him figures he was dead, part of him had a kindled hope he wasn't even as he rots in prison. He's old enough to where he doesn't exactly care about being in prison, it's annoying, but it's better than spending your entire life in it as Jamie would. Another soft sigh and he eventually sinks down to lay on his cot, recalling the explosion briefly, remembering the toss and the weight against him. Could have cracked the guy's head open with that tough of a throw, if he landed wrong. Normally Jamie bounced back from injuries, pushing it off like it wasn't anything but a scratch, reminded him of that dead old movie about a knight with the same mindset. Even as his limbs are cut off, he said something along the lines of 'Tis but a scratch'. 

Heh.

The hours tick by, recalling how they got into the most ridiculous trouble, from raiding icecream trucks to stealing pachimaris in Hanamura...

His side felt abnormally cold then, looking over to the side where his scratched up mirror and sink, toilet combo was and there is a frown settling beneath his oxygen fed mask. He speaks mainly to himself, eyes dulling as the flames of his energy are snuffed out. He was so reckless, it rang in his head as he spoke. **"Maybe you were too reckless..."**

The cot and floor caved in on him soon after, everything blacking out as if he had fallen asleep. The hefty shadows were not the only thing keeping his company on this trip to snoreland; A new world would be opening up to him the moment he woke up, his gear, his reserve tanks, and weapons by his side. It was sure to be a confusing and bumpy ride, but that's left to the events of the future, when Mako wakes up.

Until then, sweet dreams. 


End file.
